Weaving
by Kathryn Claire O'Connor
Summary: A scene between Finnick and Annie pre-trilogy


**Fair warning, I am not familiar with the Hunger Games fandom, I wrote this at a request from my cousin, so I apologize in advance for anything that goes against canon... Hopefully you enjoy this, though! Reviews and votes on my poll would make my day if you felt so inclined! Thanks!**

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The new girl was already back and in the Victor's Village, Finnick remembered, spotting her flame-red hair as she sat on the beach.

Annie, he recalled, starting to make his way to her, purely out of curiosity. Her name was Annie, and rumor had it that the Games had made her go a little nuts. Sure, they did that to everybody, but apparently she'd gone especially far off the deep end.

So Finnick was honestly a little curious, if not somewhat sympathetic in his own mind.

As he approached her from behind, he noticed just how unkempt her hair was. During the Games and beforehand, it had been kept in two stick-straight braids; now it reminded him somewhat of an abandoned seagulls' nest.

She was making a daisy chain, he observed secondly the closer he got to her. She was expertly weaving together the flowers that grew here at the edge between the sand and the grass, barely glancing at her work as she stared instead at the sea.

"Hi, Annie," he offered, folding himself onto the ground beside her. "I'm Finnick. "Do you remember me?"

He didn't get any response; she just barely blinked at the sound of his voice, and he didn't know what to do. Then she did something that was halfway miraculous, at least to his way of thinking. He tied the ends of her chain together, turning it into a crown… then she placed the crown carefully atop his head, her unfocused eyes never meeting his.

His response skipped a beat – and his heart may have too – before he said, feeling ridiculously touched by her childish action, "Thank you, Annie." Still he got no response and the silence started making him want to squirm a little. Finally, he said the one – incredibly stupid – think that came to mind: "I liked your braids."

She sighed breathily and turned away from him – probably her idea of a dismissal, he assumed – but he wasn't so easily swayed. Instead he did something that was even dumber than his words had been. As she began to weave another chain of flowers, he started gently picking apart the tangles in her hair. Annie froze for a second, but she didn't protest or stop him. She just went back to her self-appointed task, so he did too.

The discomfort flowed out of the silence that still hung between them the longer they continued, and though she never said a word, he got the feeling she was acutely aware of his presence. They just… did what they were doing, and there was something soothing about being together like this. It was simple, nothing showy, grand, or loud; there was no need for them to speak, Finnick realized, and that was nice.

It never occurred to him to wonder why he was doing what he was doing – caring, being this gentle with her, for some reason _trying _– he just did it. She looked like she need a friend, and maybe – just maybe – he did too. And for reasons he couldn't really comprehend, he thought the two of them might be hitting it off.

When he was satisfied that her hair was sufficiently detangled, he sectioned it off and began to plait it, first one braid and then a second. While he'd done his work, she'd made a necklace, set it aside, and was now finishing a chain that was the right length for a second crown. He picked up the necklace and slowly, gently lowered it onto her neck, doing his best not to startle her even as her eyes blew wide and her hands froze again. Still moving carefully, he took the chain she was grasping and tied the ends together. Smiling a small, encouraging smile, he finally caught her gaze as he moved to her side and put the crown on her head. For a long moment, neither one of them looked away, but when she blinked and hastily turned her gaze to the sea again, so did he.

They just sat there side by side for a minute before another small miracle occurred, leaving him the breathless one this time. She leaned her head over on his shoulder. When he managed to remember how to breathe, he put his arm loosely around her shoulders and just smiled while still staring out at the water.

Somehow in this moment he felt victorious, more so than when he had won the Games. And it took him a minute to figure out why. In this, he didn't feel like he'd merely survived, but that he'd accomplished something, and feeling this way made him – he'd even dare say both him _and Annie _– _happy _in the middle of their dark world.


End file.
